Running Scared
by noeatingheretonight
Summary: Elizabeth goes offworld. The mission goes awry. The team gets angsty. Is it EVER good when Elizabeth goes offworld? Sparky. Not yet, but IT WILL BE. Chapter 9 up!
1. Prologue

Spoilers: None, but anything up until the second half of season three is probably fair game.

Pairing: Sparky. Shep'n'Lizzie.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. If I did, I probably wouldn't be THAT mean to Lizzie, I would just shove her mercilessly towards John and his adorable elf ears.

* * *

Her first sensation was pain- blinding pain. She couldn't remember anything as to why she was here, where she was, or what had happened. Her eyes opened and immediately shut; though the light was dim, it still hurt her eyes.

A cool hand enveloped her forehead and she cracked open an eyelid to see a young woman, twenty or so, directly above her. The woman was muttering in a different language, and she suddenly-

Atlantis. The names came unbidden to her, flowing as freely as they had before. Elizabeth. Layna. John. Rodney. Teyla. Freedom.

The woman- Layna —looked down at her, surprised to see her stirring. She whispered something else and smiled.

Elizabeth smiled back and promptly remembered she couldn't understand her. Another occupant of the cell- Ketna- came into her line of vision and smiled triumphantly. She spoke English, or some form of it. "You're awake!"

Elizabeth attempted to sit up, but Layna pushed her back down. "How long was I out?" she croaked, her voice weaker than she had expected.

Ketna's face did nothing to alleviate her fears. "Not that long."

Elizabeth looked back at her; the girl betrayed nothing. "Minutes? Hours?"

She looked back at her, confused. Of course. Ketna's planet used different time measurements. "You were out longer than before."

Elizabeth had figured out that last time she'd come back and promptly fainted, it had been about five hours before she had woken up. Not a good sign. Layna continued to push her down as she attempted to get up, but finally Elizabeth batted her away. "I'm fine," she told Layna helplessly, as if the woman would understand. "Really."

Ketna looked from Layna back to Elizabeth and bit her lip. "Are you? Or are you just saying that?"

Elizabeth glared at her. "I'm fine. A little sore, but I'll be fine." As she sat up, she involuntarily flinched as a wave of pain hit her. And with that, she remembered the torture and wished she hadn't. "I'm fine," she repeated, if only to convince herself.

Layna shook her head and muttered angrily, but the anger was directed towards the guards, not Elizabeth. She'd been here the longest- as far as Elizabeth could tell; Ketna tended not to say anything about her exploits here- and was the most valuable for her background in nursing. She helped all of them back to health. Before they were taken, of course. Their cell of six had dwindled to three, and soon someone else would be "taken", or, in Ketna's words, sacrificed.

As much as Elizabeth tried to keep an open mind, some societies were just stupid. She was pretty sure she had the right to say that when her back was still burning from the whip marks. She just didn't understand how anyone could think this was right.

Of course, the rulers didn't think it was right. They thought it was fun. They enjoyed hearing them scream and got some perverse pleasure out of their shuddering pleas. It made Elizabeth sick.

The guards' thudding footsteps stopped at the first block in the row, only two down from theirs. She didn't turn her head, for her neck hurt too much, but she could her the lock slide and the gate swing open. She closed her eyes as a girl screamed, being pried away from the prison's bars so she could be sacrificed to the gods. It was the only solution these people had thought of to keep their subjects thinking that they still believed in the gods. Elizabeth wondered idly if she'd be chosen this time. Probably not, because she'd just been beaten. They'd probably take Layna, since she hadn't been out of the cell for a while.

The second person was chosen, and despite herself, Elizabeth felt the rising panic she promised herself she wouldn't feel. She had told herself she wouldn't be scared of someone who could do precious little more to hurt her. Heaven knows she'd been beaten enough.

The guard's leering face appeared in the door's vacancy, and he scanned the three pitiful occupants. His eyes lit up upon seeing Layna, who avoided his gaze and kept her face downward. He grabbed her by the back of her dress and lifted her up to his level. He said nothing- they hardly ever did- but smiled and nodded politely at Elizabeth and Ketna, who glared as he retreated, locking the cell again with Layna still in tow. She wasn't screaming. She'd learned long ago that it wasn't worth it to scream. It just made it better for them.

The cell seemed smaller, somehow, even though a third of the bodies were gone. Elizabeth slumped against the back bars, immediately regretting it as her whipped back made contact with the shaped metal. She winced and shifted herself into a more sitting position, leaning back upon her hands. She didn't even notice anymore when the grain on the floor cut into her bleeding hands.

The guards were gone, taking their six and leaving the rest. Ketna looked positively frightened, though she was hiding it well. Elizabeth could tell after seeing hundreds of faces hiding grief.

"I want you to do something for me," Elizabeth whispered, motioning Ketna to come over with her head. Ketna crawled over to her, puzzled, but interested. "If you ever have a chance to get out of here- ever- I want you to take it."

"Where will I go?" she asked, sounding more like a child than she had before.

Elizabeth stretched across the cell floor (painfully) and reached under an unnaturally large pile of chaff. "Here." She extracted a small metal object. "If you have the chance, go to the Stargate. The-"

"The ring?"

"Yes. Go there and enter these symbols." Elizabeth drew them on the floor, her right index finger protesting the dirt in her open wound. "Then, once it's open, enter these numbers into this." She wrote her IDC next to Atlantis's address, her finger burning.

"Why?"

"That's my home. My friends will help you."

"What about you?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm afraid I'm never going to get out of here, Ketna. You've got the best chance. Can you remember those for me?"

She nodded and looked at her. "I'll go and get help for you, I promise."

"That's not the point." Elizabeth closed her eyes and opened them again. "Just help yourself, okay? My friends know when to launch a rescue operation and when not to. Just remember anything you can about this place and tell them, okay?"

Ketna nodded.

"And leave soon- during a busy time, even if I'm not here. Just take this and run. Don't worry about me."

She began studiously studying the symbols Elizabeth had drawn, frowning and concentrating. The next time she looked up to ask Elizabeth a question, she'd already fallen back into unconsciousness, her formerly beautiful face beaten and bloody.

She wasn't sure how much longer she'd last.

* * *

Want more? You know what to do.

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	2. Three Weeks Earlier

Okay, so this is Chapter 2- betaed this time by the lovely and talented Oparu, without whom my speech tags would be nonexistant. -applause-

Ha, I spelled "disclaimer" without the s. And why am I writing fanfiction? Hmmm.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will. By the time I'm old enough to actually own Stargate Atlantis, they will all be old and ugly (no, not Sheppard! -cries-) and no one will watch the show anymore because it will have been on for ten years (rim shot). No more stabs at Stargate. That wasn't really a stab at Stargate because I love Stargate. I picked an arbitrary number and it happened to be Stargate's season number, and I need to shut up now. Conclusion: I love Stargate and own nothing except this Hershey's Nugget. Now I ate it and own nothing again.

* * *

-Three weeks earlier-

Elizabeth Weir sat in her office; her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She stared at the water out the window, her view partly obstructed by the scaffolding of the balcony. Lost in thought, she failed to notice John Sheppard leaning in her doorframe with a small smirk on his face.

He knocked lightly and she jumped, whipping her head around to face him. He grinned and launched off the doorframe, coming in without invitation. Attempting to sit on the desk, he was swatted away by Elizabeth's hand and opted instead to straddling a chair bckwards.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked obnoxiously, trying to grab her laptop.

She put down her coffee and tried in vain to take her computer back. "I'm finishing this report before our mission. Care to read it?"

He wrinkled his nose at the scientists' account of the newest Pegasus Galaxy technology. "Uh, I'll pass," he said. Handing her the laptop, he folded his arms stubbornly over the back of the chair like a petulant child.

She skimmed the text once more before realizing he hadn't left. "Was there something you wanted, John?" she wondered.

Of all the things to come out of his mouth, she hadn't been expecting...

"I think we should have a luau," John announced cheerfully.

Unfortunately she'd been drinking her coffee at the same time he'd said that, and she tried (unsuccessfully) to avoid spitting it back out. Sputtering, she managed; "A- a_ luau_?"

He grinned. "Yeah. A luau," he insisted.

There was really no way to dignify this with a response. After a pause, she said; "Where?"

"On the mainland," he responded immediately and it was evident he'd been planning this for a while. "The Athosians have drums- bongos, probably, and there's reeds for grass skirts, and flowers for leis-"

"Grass skirts?" she asked dubiously. "You're planning on the women wearing grass skirts?"

"Well, I suppose the men could to, if they really wanted to," he offered. She rolled her eyes, but he continued. "And I'm sure we could find some form of a tiki bar."

"With all our non-existant alcohol?" she demanded.

"Uh- I'm working on that," John started. "You know, the Athosians have been thinking of making moonshine, and they've been experimenting. And they've never experienced a luau."

She tried to think of problems with this- sadly enough, she couldn't. "A luau," she repeated. "You want to hold a luau on the mainland."

"Yup," he said again. His expression was akin to that of a little kid who had just thought of an incredibly brilliant idea. "A luau on the mainland."

"And when is this going to happen?"

"Well, as soon as it's organized-"

"And you're going to organize it, correct?"

His expression faltered a bit, but it reasserted itself in under a second. "Yeah, or at least _mostly_ by myself," John pointed out. "I'm sure Rodney will be happy to help."

"Translation: you'll force him into assisting," she realized. Drinking her coffee again, Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow.

"Not in so many words," John promised. "And Teyla loves learning about Earth traditions. Not to mention, Ronon would just love to dance the hula in a grass skirt."

She had to force down her laughter, and it escaped in a smile. As ludicrous as it sounded, a luau probably would boost the spirits of almost everyone on the expedition. Just thinking about Ronon in a grass skirt and –heaven forbid- a coconut bra made Elizabeth that much closer to cracking up.

"And how are you planning on getting everyone in on the celebration?" she wondered practically. "Won't some people be forced to stay behind to watch Atlantis?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I figured we could take shifts," John replied. "Puddlejumpers and all." He looked up at her again with puppy-dog eyes –damn him- and pleaded. "Come on, Elizabeth. It'd be a good idea."

"It would," she agreed, surprising him. "As long as you plan the whole thing, and make all the arrangements."

He nodded, almost bouncing in the chair.

"That includes shuttling people from Atlantis to the mainland, food, drinks-"

"Costumes," he interrupted with a smirk.

"_If_ they want to wear them," she scolded.

"Am I allowed to have a tiki bar?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "People will be very upset if there's a tiki bar and no alcohol."

"Okay, if I _find_ alcohol?" John pleaded.

She sighed and nodded. "Fine. Run with it," she conceded. Elizabeth returned to her laptop with chagrin, determined not to look at his beaming face. She was _not_ going to laugh.

He sprang up from the chair, slapping her desk. "I _told_ Rodney you'd agree." He paused in the doorway a moment and turned around. "So, what size coconut are you?"

She looked up, mortified, but he flashed her a grin, winked, and was gone.

---------------------------------------------------

John Sheppard was giddy. He'd just gotten permission from the leader of Atlantis to hold a luau, and was going to dive headfirst into the planning process. He got many odd looks as he wandered from room to room, asking around for toothpicks and paper. He got floss from the storage room because no one really flossed anyway. It'd be fine string for leis. He planned on decorating the paper and turning it into a mini umbrella to stick in the drinks, but he'd need help. Athosian children liked coloring, right?

However, he didn't have a lot of time to dwell on these things. His team, plus Elizabeth, was leaving for a trade agreement with a society called the Aldorans. He'd been to visit them before, and now that he thought about it, they had a lot of dried reeds that would be fine fodder for skirts. He didn't remember any coconuts, but he'd have to make do. Though they did have bushels of some sort of dried sustenance- he hadn't quite caught the name. Rodney said it was a miracle grain, something that resisted infestation, could survive drought, and thrived with weeds in the soil. It had sounded pretty good to him, but the Aldorans weren't simply going to give it to them. They'd insisted on seeing their leader and negotiating, and fortunately, it was the same person.

Elizabeth looked up at the Stargate with a slight nervousness. She normally didn't go through the 'gate, but sometimes it was necessary. She should go through it more, just to get used to the gripping cold and blurry vision. She picked absentmindedly at her tac vest, not even realizing she was opening and closing a Velcro patch right next to Ronon's ear.

He looked at her, clearly trying to restrain himself, and she whispered a "sorry" and continued fingering her clothing. She'd really rather not wear one, but everyone had insisted. She saw their point, but still couldn't get used to the extra weight on her torso.

The 'gate opened, and she involuntarily stepped back as the wormhole opened. "Sheppard, you have a go," came the technician's voice. _How odd_, Elizabeth thought. _That's usually me_.

As they stepped out on the other side she stumbled slightly, losing her balance on the uneven terrain. Teyla caught her arm and steadied her, and John looked back.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you there's rocks," he said apologetically.

She raised her eyebrows and he shrugged, trudging ahead to the Aldorans' village.

"It's only a short walk," Teyla told her, letting go of her arm.

Elizabeth nodded, smiled, and followed the rest of the team.

* * *

Dun dun dun! -obnoxious dramatic music- Okay, this formatting thing is annoying. First on Command Dynamics the italics don't work, and now I have to switch from asterisks to little hyphon thingys. Not to mention here italics _do _work (proof!) so I have to change everything all over again. I would do a huffy sigh but I don't want to type hyphons. Fine. -huffy sigh- Anyways, you know what to do, review and all that, tally ho, pip, old chap. It's faux British. Making fun of Canadians is _so_ overdone. And us Americans deserve to be made fun of but make fun of other people just to- uh, hide our repressed anger? I don't know. Conclusion: I love Stargate, own nothing, and deserve to be made fun of, plus I shouldn't make fun of others. I do anyways. And again, need to shut up now.


	3. OffWorld Trouble, As Usual

Thanks to Oparu for beta'ing- yes, it's been a while. That's because of school (eye twitch) and stupid essays. But I've updated, no matter how short. And I love you reviewers--keeps the plot bunnies biting.

* * *

They'd only been walking about fifteen minutes before John put up a hand to stop them. Rodney hadn't been paying attention and ran directly into Ronon's back, and stuttered an apology before being quieted by the Satedan. Elizabeth couldn't figure out what was wrong, but from watching Teyla and John's expressions, she knew something was amiss. The slight wind unnerved her, and she unconsciously shivered.

Teyla turned to her, her hand firmly wrapped around the butt of her P-90. She pulled on Elizabeth's arm, leading her behind an outcrop of rock, with the other three following. Ronon kneeled beside her, his weapon out and ready. Though it should have reassured her, Elizabeth felt no more at ease than she had been five minutes ago. She couldn't stop herself from peeking out behind the boulders, and no one stopped her. In fact, John was doing the same thing five feet away.

She wasn't trained in military tactics. She knew nothing of the stealth techniques the team was using, but she could tell someone was out there. The long grasses waved in the breeze, but in certain parts they were still. Focusing her eyes on one of them, she could barely make out a shape on the ground. She forced herself to stare at him until she could be convinced he was real.

She got her proof—he'd moved. Just the tiniest bit, but she'd been watching him. At the same time, she got a flash of a glint off a gun muzzle, and lowered her head slowly behind the rock. She'd be fine right here, thank you.

John had seen it too, and muttered a curse before motioning to the others. He silently told Elizabeth and Rodney to stay there, while he, Teyla, and Ronon would attempt to flush out the ambushers. They nodded their agreement, and he dropped into a ready crouch, followed closely by the other two.

Rodney pulled out his pistol and checked the clip, though it was full. Elizabeth reluctantly did the same, the gun feeling unfamiliar and wrong in her hands. However, sometimes there was no choice; sometimes you had to fight. It didn't matter how much she didn't want to.

She heard John's voice ring out over the still landscape, tentatively probing the atmosphere. "Hey, this isn't quite the welcome we were expecting."

The answer was abrupt, clipped, and sounded slightly foreign. "Who- who be you?"

John looked in confusion at the rock. "Uh, it's John Sheppard and company, with our negotiator." He stopped when they began to whisper. "I can't understand them," he said, more to himself than the team.

Elizabeth listened hard. The whispers sounded familiar, but seemed incomplete, or at least muddled. She understood only parts of words, but what she could understand sounded suspiciously like Ancient. She listened again—yes, there was the word for "tell", and another for "people". The forms of words were odd, but she took in what she could and didn't like what she heard.

"That's Ancient," Rodney said, dragging himself to his feet, all the while watching her closely. "Isn't it?"

She nodded, concentrating. "Partly. It's—simplified, kind of, or at least a different form. They're saying…something about the Aldorans, I think. It…they. Death? No, kill. Killed. They killed them," she concluded, her expression morphing from confusion to fear.

John turned to her, taking a deep breath. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No." At John's sigh, she added, "but I'm pretty sure that's what they said."

"Here- trade?" The voice from across the field startled them, and John looked at Elizabeth in vain.

"Uh, tell them we aren't going to hurt them," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Though I'm not sure it's going to matter."

Elizabeth blinked, and let off a string of Ancient dialect, as close to their language as she could muster.

There was silence, but the reply was hurried. The team heard a garble of syllables, but Elizabeth could decipher almost all of their answer. "You speak the language of the Ancestors," she relayed to the team. Their next sentence was easier. "How?"

John bit his lip, and advised, "Don't tell them about Atlantis, whatever you say."

She nodded, and began to talk. She'd fight with her preferred weapon: words.

* * *

The first burst of gunfire startled her. Her talk had been going fairly well, with only a few mishaps that involved a misunderstanding of words. She'd been able to tell them they came to trade with the Aldorans, and they'd replied that they hadn't seen them. She knew that was a lie, but she continued talking. It'd finally culminated in a question she'd posed: where do you come from? That's when the first weapons fire hit the rock, sufficiently melting it and her jacket. She'd been the only one leaning against the rock, and it proved to be a mistake. She managed to muffle the cry of pain as the heat hit her skin, but whimpered as she was dragged away by someone's hands—Ronon's? Rodney's? She couldn't tell. Her back was felt as if it were on fire, and there was a sizable hole in the rock.

John leaned his gun on the top of the rock. "Are you okay?" he asked Elizabeth, turning to face her.

She wanted to scream "God, no", but she suppressed it. He saw the pain in her eyes, Rodney's horrified expression at the view of her burned skin, and made his own conclusions. "Dammit," he swore, talking again to the boulders.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as pain lanced through her. Teyla pressed down on a particularly burned area and she half-screamed before she could stop herself. Rodney had rummaged through his vest before coming up with something that was equal to morphine, and she took it immediately.

"What the hell kind of weapon was that?" John asked as he watched her flinch. He peeled his eyes away from her pained face and looked squarely at Ronon.

He shrugged. Teyla answered for him. "I have never seen a handheld that has delivered so much destructive power."

Ronon looked out at the still grass. "We don't stand a chance against them if they've all got those."

The shooters yelled something again in Ancient. The team turned expectantly to Rodney, whose eyes widened. He shrunk away from the inquisitive glares. "I don't know Ancient—"

Through Elizabeth's haze of pain, she heard the phrase and unconsciously deciphered it. "Come out. They're saying 'come out'," she translated, keeping her voice mostly steady. "Come out or die."

John looked from her to the field. "We can't—" His sentence was cut short by another energy burst, which hit his P-90 squarely on the muzzle. He ducked, and the shot missed his head by inches, leaving the slight odor of burned hair. Looking at his gun, he tossed it aside. The barrel had completely melted. It seemed they had no choice.

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Gotta love the Lizzie angst! Review if you want to, I'm not a review whore. I like them, though, and they brighten up my day, no matter if they're positive or constructive criticism. 


	4. This Will End Badly, Won't It?

AN: Ha. So, yeah, it's been a month. But now I have an open period, so I can write it for an hour instead of doing homework! I mean, homework first, then funness. That's not a word. Anyways, thanks to Oparu for beta'ing (again-are you noticing a trend?), and enjoy!

* * *

"Are you insane? We can't go out there!"

Rodney's protest went unnoticed for a while. John was busy trying to think his way out of this situation--so far he hadn't come up with anything.

"We do not have a choice, Rodney. You have seen what their weapons can do," Teyla tried to tell him, gesturing faintly to Elizabeth's injury.

"I don't care! We're better off making a run for it! What're they going to do to us?" he asked no one in particular, panicking.

"Shut up, Rodney," John said, annoyed. He gingerly touched his hair and was amazed when it broke off in his fingers. "Huh."

The voice came again from the grass, saying the same phrase as before. After a pause, more words were added, and Elizabeth translated them in a strained voice. "Come out or we'll open fire."

"Sheppard, listen to me!" Rodney said in vain. "We'll just-"

"Not now, McKay! We don't have a choice!" With that, John stood up slowly; his P-90 draped over his chest. "Okay, okay, we're coming out."

Rodney looked as if he were about to say something, but he shook his head and followed suit. Teyla soon joined them, holding a hunched-over Elizabeth up. Ronon was the last to comply, still holding his gun in his hand.

"Ronon-put that away," John hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "Drop it. Something."

"Or what? They'll shoot me?" he responded, staring at the invisible forms in the grass.

"Yes, they will," Elizabeth told him, looking up at his face. "That's what they're saying."

He looked at her before finally deciding to drop the weapon. "Fine. But they aren't taking me."

"We haven't said anything about kidnapping," John whispered as the figures, clothed in black, exited their hiding spots. Behind them, there were a dozen more hidden in the foliage. "See, Rodney? We wouldn't have made it anyway. They'd have sniped us off long before any of us made it to the 'gate."

"Oh, and I suppose you knew that all along, didn't you? That's why you-hey!" Rodney shrieked as one of the shooters grabbed his wrists and bound them together. "Ow!"

Ronon glared at his captor, barely suppressing the urge to knock him out. The figure picked up his weapon with obvious interest before aiming at a tree and firing. The tree now sported a clean hole in the trunk, and the man nodded in satisfaction and pocketed the gun. John and Teyla's P-90s were similarly taken. Their pistols were left on the ground.

Teyla and John succumbed with a minimum of struggle, and Elizabeth couldn't fight back if she wanted to. She couldn't even stand up straight and staggered as they pushed her forward.

"Where are we going? Why are you taking us?" Rodney jabbered, rambling. "What happened to the Aldorans? Why-oh." Ronon's gun was suddenly in his side, held by one of the black-cloaked figures. "Uh, never mind."

John looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and saw Elizabeth struggling to keep up. Her captor obviously felt no remorse; he continuously hit her if she fell. "Hey-" John started, but barely got a word out before three guns were being pointed at him. He echoed Rodney's words. "Uh, never mind."

But he still watched her, wincing with every strike.

Ten minutes later, when they had reached the Stargate, the men began to talk to them. "Which talk Ancient?"

Elizabeth raised her head. "I do," she said with resolve.

The men looked at her and then back at the team. Elizabeth could understand their next sentence, but it wasn't being directed at her.

"Is she the only one?"

The rest of the team just looked confused. The leader seemed satisfied, and nodded. Elizabeth watched, horrified, as they began to shoot the team with their own weapons. She screamed as the leader grabbed her from behind, but it was stifled as he clapped a hand over her mouth. The echoes of the Earth weapons coupled with the crack of bullet hitting bone made her sick. He dragged her to the DHD, ordered his men to dial, and sneered in her ear.

She saw the team through blurred eyes, and all she saw was blood.

* * *

She blinked away the tears. She couldn't afford them. Not right now.

Elizabeth had come through the 'gate with her captors, held tightly by the leader. She wasn't sure what they were going to do to her, but she could bet it wasn't going to be good.

They exited on a fairly normal planet. She looked around, trying to find something that might tell her where she was--she had seen the 'gate symbols, but it didn't really do her much good since she was certain the rest of the team hadn't. Even if they had, they were all dead, so what good would it do?

She was rushed along so hurriedly she couldn't concentrate on her surroundings. The man's hand had moved down to around her neck, and he had acquired a knife sometime--yes, it must've been from her vest. It was pressing painfully against her neck but not enough to draw blood. Her back still hurt enormously, but the morphine Rodney had given her was helping immensely. It didn't completely erase the pain, but it dulled it enough to make it tolerable.

They stopped at a rather innocuous-looking warehouse, and from the outside, it looked perfectly fine. She expected a more foreboding interior, but it seemed to be merely an abandoned storage facility. Then the man holding her ordered the men to do something--what was it? Get? Fetch?

Her answer came when the straw was brushed away to reveal a weapons rack. It would've gone unnoticed by any passerby, and even someone looking for it would've had to search extensively. It contained more of the guns they had shot her with, as well as weapons she didn't recognize. They appeared to be basically the same as the ones they had, but slightly more complex. She figured that meant it was more damaging.

The guns traveled down something like an assembly line, with inspection and pocketing. The leader sneered at her as she watched them being unloaded. He was handed the most complicated weapon, and she could only assume it was a sign of authority. They seemed awfully violence-oriented.

They hadn't spoken since they'd stepped on the planet. She wasn't about to break the silence, because the knife around her neck effectively suppressed any questions she was going to ask. He pushed her forward without saying a word. She complied, but went as slowly as possible, trying to convince her captors she couldn't move on account of her back. She didn't have to fake most of the pain; wincing came naturally.

Strangely enough, they were walking back to the Stargate. Elizabeth wanted to ask dearly if this planet was simply a pit stop, but she never would have the cheek to do so. John would've said it in a heartbeat, but she had no desire to get injured any more than she was already.

As they reached the 'gate, one of the men began to dial another address. The leader saw her looking at the symbols and swiftly hit her on the head with the knife hilt. Her world turned black and she could no longer feel the man's hands dragging her through the wormhole.

* * *

Gasp! What will happen? Read and review and find out! (Obviously not in reviews. But the next chapter should be up soon. Well, soon in my world, which is less than two weeks, if you're lucky.) 


	5. You Never Forget Your First

Heh heh heh...this would've been up sooner (like a month and a half ago) if not for a STUPID MIX-UP WITH YAHOO E-MAIL. Not that I am bitter. Thanks always to my beta Oparu, who is extremely fast. Anyways, don't own 'em, never will. Just like to take them out to play and return them as...erm...used goods. That sounds very odd. Onwards and upwards to the story!

* * *

Lorne and Zelenka watched helplessly as Carson and the EMTs ran through the 'gate room with Sheppard's team on stretchers. Questions ran through their mind like wildfire, all of them unanswered. How long had they been lying on the ground before Lorne had decided to send a team? Where was Elizabeth? Who the hell had done this?

From what Major Lorne knew, the Aldorans were not a violent species—especially to the extent of _shooting the team_—though their injuries looked awfully familiar. The majority of the injuries were bullet wounds, but Carson had yet to confirm it. He had also not expected good prognoses from the team, but Lorne had expected that. Just seeing the amount of blood on the _ground_, he could honestly say he didn't expect them all to make it. But he had faith in the doctor, as they all did.

Zelenka stared at the procession with shocked eyes, trying to trick himself into thinking it was simply a dream. They'd seen more amounts of people come through the 'gate with injuries, but their lead team always managed to pull through with minor wounds. This time, though…and where was Elizabeth? Why had they taken her instead of the others? No doubt any one of them (well, maybe except Rodney—but Zelenka believed Rodney had it in him) would've offered themselves. They would've insisted on replacing her, so why was she gone? He refused to believe she was dead, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned to Lorne.

"I'd like to come with you on the search team," he said, standing up straighter.

"Uh, Doctor, that's really not necessary," Lorne answered, avoiding his eyes. "I know you—"

"No, no, I can get the addresses from the DHD," he explained, putting up a hand to effectively stop Lorne, who looked relieved at not having to shoot down a helpful scientist. "Hopefully it will help us find Elizabeth."

Lorne nodded solemnly as the last stretcher, bearing Ronon, was wheeled towards the infirmary. "Good." He clapped his hands. "Okay, let's get on that."

* * *

She awoke to darkness. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, but for a second she thought she was going blind. She mentally chided herself as objects came into focus, but they were sideways. She suddenly realized her head was lying on the ground, as was the rest of her, and she needed to get up.

Her head hurt; that impeded her efforts, but she eventually hoisted herself into a sitting position. She couldn't remember much about what had happened, but as she felt a tender lump on top of her head, a flash of a memory came back to her. She saw five Gate symbols in her mind's eye, then blackness. She'd been hit with a knife, and it'd caused quite a headache. The symbols were jumbled, and she couldn't remember which order she'd viewed them. Not that it really mattered, because it wouldn't help her situation at all to know what planet she was on. For all she knew, they'd gated to another world while she'd been unconscious.

As she lurched upright, she realized she was still wearing her uniform, but her jacket and vest had been stripped away. Her hair was matted down with blood. Slowly her back begin to tingle painfully, and she realized the morphine had worn off. She felt around to her back, and to her surprise, felt something akin to a bandage. She turned around, still sitting down, and saw she wasn't alone. Five sets of eyes stared back at her, all from women's faces. They all looked scared and broken, and most would only look at her in intermittent glances.

She tried tentatively to communicate, using English. Two of the five responded. Using Ancient, another member of her cell replied. The other two attempted their language, but Elizabeth didn't recognize it. The woman closest to her—no, the more apt term was _girl_, she was barely a teenager—held her gaze.

"Who are you?" the girl asked her, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Doctor Elizabeth Weir," she answered, turning to fully face her. "What's your name? Do you know where we are?"

She shook her head. "I'm Ketna. I don't know where we are; I don't think anyone does. It's no use asking those three, they don't speak Elukre."

"Elukre?" Elizabeth asked, a second before she realized Ketna didn't call it English.

Ketna looked positively confused. "Elukre. This. The—"

"No, I know. I call it English."

She tried it out. "English." The word was odd on her tongue, and she slurred the g and the l. "English. No, Asluna, over there, speaks Eluk—English too. The other three speak something else." The woman she'd been referring to nodded and smiled uncertainly at Elizabeth. "No one seems to talk in here. They keep to themselves a lot."

"Do you know her?" Elizabeth questioned, seeing the knowing look that passed between the girl and the woman.

Ketna shrugged. "She's from my village, but I didn't know her very personally. She ran the store across from—it doesn't really matter. All that matters is soon the sacrifice will begin."

A feeling of dread spread over Elizabeth, making her head and back throb even more. "The…sacrifice?"

Asluna answered. "Every so often, the guards come and take someone from each block. The ones taken are sacrificed to the gods, to keep them happy. Apparently sacrificing males is forbidden, so they kidnap females. They tell their subjects in the city the gods are pleased with their 'harvest', and by taking females from other planets, they don't have to murder their own followers."

Ketna nodded, watching Elizabeth's reaction carefully.

Elizabeth thought this over, and suddenly remembered something. "We were visiting a planet, and its occupants had been completely executed. Why didn't they take the females from there?"

"There is a very good chance they planned on it, but were not able to carry it out. Perhaps others got in their way, and they thought it would simply be a better idea to kill them all," Asluna said.

Elizabeth bit her lip. "But when they took me, they killed the rest of my team." She swallowed a lump that was beginning to form in her throat. "That included another female. Why bother taking me if they were just going to kill the rest of us?"

"They don't need a reason to kill anyone," Ketna said, sounding like a little girl.

Elizabeth's brows knit together. "And also, they took me because I could speak Ancient. What good would that do?"

The two women who understood her didn't answer, looking puzzled.

Elizabeth switched topics. "Who bandaged my back?" It didn't hurt as much anymore, and she was able to put the pain out of her mind.

Ketna pointed at a woman in the corner. "Layna. No one understands her, but I think she's a medic."

Elizabeth crawled over to her. "Thank you," she whispered, hoping the message would be conveyed no matter what language she said it in.

Layna nodded, smiling at her. Something was said, but Elizabeth didn't know what it meant. She figured it meant "you're welcome", but she couldn't be sure.

"How often do these 'sacrifices' happen?" she asked, turning around to face Ketna and Asluna again.

"About every ak or so," Ketna said nonchalantly.

First Elizabeth had thought she'd coughed up something, but when she looked blankly back, she realized it was a measurement of time. "Ak? Um…how long—"

The thudding of footsteps drowned out her question. As she looked to Ketna's face, she saw worry and fear that hadn't been there before.

Elizabeth's first sacrifice was about to commence.

* * *

Yeah, it's not really very long, but hey. Next part shouldn't take too long--I just kind of have to write it. And I have some school stuff I should probably get done first...-whistle- Tell me whatcha think! 


	6. Prison Filler!

Rah! Feel the wrath of the less-than-a-month updater! RAH! Granted, it's the shortest chapter yet, but meh. (That doesn't really count. Shh. It's a secret.) Okay, done being weird. Thanks again to Oparu for beta'ing and suggesting the italic-Ancient thing. Whatever's in italics is Ancient, and whatever isn't--isn't. Yes, so eloquent today. Tally-ho!

Oh. Surprisingly enough, TPTB hasn't called me up and told me I've won the rights to Stargate. Fancy that. Really thought this would be the week.

* * *

The guard stopped directly in front of Elizabeth's cell. The lock on the cell's gate was opened by a complicated-looking device pulled from the guard's belt. It wasn't exactly a key, but it wasn't exactly not…

Her thoughts on this world's security devices were rudely interrupted by the guard storming in and grabbing Asluna by her forearm. To her credit, she didn't scream. Instead, she glared at her captor with a look of pure hatred. She knew what was going to happen, and she knew there was no way to stop it.

Elizabeth, however, couldn't just sit there and watch an innocent woman be taken away against her will. At least she thought she was innocent–Elizabeth had been taken for no particular reason, hadn't she? Regardless, she stood up, and the guard noticed her and growled a "sit down" in her general direction.

It didn't register at first, but eventually she realized he was speaking Ancient. She refused to lower her gaze and directly disobeyed his order. "_I want to speak to whoever is in charge_," she said in Ancient, much more confidently than she felt. The guard's belt not only held the alien key ring, but also a dagger and two types of firearms.

"_You will_," he answered, still dragging Asluna away.

"_I want to speak to them now_."

Her blatant defiance was obviously not a common occurrence here. The guard shoved Asluna towards his counterparts outside the cell and advanced on Elizabeth, backing her up against the metal bars, and sending lances of pain down her back. She refused to wince. "_You will speak with him when he decided he wants to see you_." Casting a glance up and down her body, he added, "_It shouldn't be long_."

She repressed the urge to punch him and instead realized that her knee was in an optimal position to injure his groin. That would probably be frowned upon though, and she swallowed any reply that might have made him angrier.

He turned away from her and exited the cell, grabbing the taken woman by her hair. Ketna watched her go with a sad expression, but she seemed to be used to it. Elizabeth looked around the cell–now minus one occupant–and saw the Ancient woman looking at her curiously.

"_Why would you want to speak to the leaders_?" she asked, her voice raspy from perhaps weeks of disuse.

Elizabeth turned to face her. "_So I could better understand why we're here, what they want, and how we can escape_."

She looked at her, genuinely confused. "_But he would never tell you. They would do nothing but hurt you_."

"_It's worth a try_," she countered, sitting down next to her. It was rather ungraceful, for she had to keep her back straight.

"_But they might kill you_."

Elizabeth looked at her. "_Is that really any worse than sitting here waiting to die_?"

The woman looked at her. "_Here, you have a chance_."

"_I don't think talking to them will really make a difference_." When the other woman didn't respond, she added, "_When you were taken, were there other females with you_?"

The woman was taken aback. She did the Ancient equivalent of a stutter. "_No. It was just my husband with me. They killed–they killed…_" She trailed off.

"_I'm sorry. I was just wondering why…never mind. There must be some reason, and I'm sure I'll find out soon enough_." She leaned back against the bars, casting a glance around the cell again. Ketna was looking at her, confused. The other two women, who were used to others conversing in languages unknown to them, simply looked scared. Elizabeth switched back to English. "I was just speaking–"

"Yeah, her language." She dismissed it with a gesture. "Go ahead."

"_You speak two languages_?" the other woman said incredulously.

Elizabeth reverted back to Ancient. "_Yes. More as well, but not ones that are known…here_."

"_Where are you from_?"

Elizabeth took her time before she spoke, "_Far away from here. We are explorers. My name is Elizabeth, by the way_," she added, suddenly realizing she hadn't properly introduced herself to her.

She nodded. "_I'm Modreni_." She stopped. "_Two languages. I've never known of a civilized person who has spoken more than one_."

"_I assume you don't have any other cultures on your planet_?" Elizabeth asked.

"_No_," she answered, then stopped. "_Well, we have the slaves, but nobody ever talks to them, and they seem to understand Ancient, so…_"

Elizabeth was slightly shocked but didn't let it show. "_Slaves_?"

"_Yeah. Slaves–servants_?" she tried to explain, thinking perhaps the language barrier was causing the problem. "_You know, someone who serves under you–_"

She interrupted Modreni. "_No, I know what they are. We just–we don't have them anymore_."

Modreni was stunned. "_You don't? How do you–do you…so you actually do your own…_" It was if she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"_Our own washing, preparing of food, that sort of thing_?" Elizabeth clarified. When Modreni nodded, she did the same, though it hurt her head. "_Yes_."

Modreni suddenly dropped her eyes. "_Oh_." She didn't elaborate, but Elizabeth knew what she was thinking, and it made her slightly angry. She was already not in the best of moods, but being put on the same pedestal as what Modreni considered a slave wasn't helping. Sooner or later, Modreni would have to do her own tasks, and she would probably end up being a slave herself to the guards. Elizabeth declined to point this out and instead turned her conversational efforts to Ketna, the only other occupant in the cell she could understand.

"What happened?" Ketna inquired, obviously aware of Modreni's avoidance.

Elizabeth sighed. "Does your society have slaves?"

Ketna shook her head.

"Well, hers does, and since I do everyday jobs, she sees me as slightly inferior." Elizabeth tried to put this as nicely as possible even though she thought it was despicable.

Ketna's typical teenage reaction almost made her smile. "That's stupid." For a moment, she and Elizabeth sounded like they could've been back on Earth, sisters talking about gossip. Ketna's face contorted into a grimace, and Modreni, who saw her, narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, that's right, I don't have a slave either."

Elizabeth at least knew that teenage sarcasm had no language–well, culture–barrier.

* * *

Review if you want to--just know that reviews make me type faster. Wait, this is the fastest chapter and only one review--something's horribly wrong with my logic. Anyways. Heh, did you know AMS stands for the American Meteorological Society? You probably did. But people call me AMS instead of typing out arcticmoonshadow, and for a while I thought they were saying I had something to do with weather until I realized what it stood for. YOUR NAME, YOU IDIOT. Anyway. That was about three years ago. It just popped into my head because I watched the weather.


	7. And The Team Is, Erm, Not Good

I was all proud because I thought this was a quick update. HA! Silly little arcticmoonshadow. Thanks always to Oparu. -huggles-

Yeah, still don't own them. What am I, TPTB?

* * *

Ronon came awake slowly and painfully. He couldn't feel his left leg, and the twinge in his abdomen did not bode well. Something was obstructing his breathing—a tube of some sort, down his throat. He thrashed against it for a second—his eyes still closed—and then felt someone push him down.

"Relax, Ronon," Teyla's calming voice said, through a fog above him. "You need to stop struggling."

He stopped, though dubiously. The tube immediately came out, and he coughed, expelling something into a conveniently placed basin directly in front of him. His eyes cracked open, but he only saw half of what he should have. "What's wrong with my eyes?" he growled, his voice scratchy and deeper than normal.

Carson glanced from him to Teyla and then answered. "Ronon, I'm afraid we couldn't save your right eye. You took a bullet directly to the top of your right eye socket, and it traveled into the bulk of your eye. I'm sorry—there's nothing we could do."

He blinked. He could still feel it—still move it around—but he had to turn his head to see Teyla. She looked somewhat healthy, but she—like him—had various bandages…everywhere. She turned her head towards him and nodded deeply, and he almost did a double take.

"Dr. Beckett was not able to save my ear," she told him, touching it briefly before returning her bandaged hand to her lap. There was a bald spot around her ear. "I am fortunate I am not dead."

"Aye," Carson said sadly. "That bullet went through her skull—barely missed her brain. It punctured her eardrum on the way out, and it also managed to get a good chunk of her ear."

"Is everyone okay?" Ronon asked, looking away from her ear. "I mean, alive?"

Carson sighed. "Well, you and Teyla are the only ones who are awake. We've done major surgery on both Colonel Sheppard and Rodney, but they haven't woken up from their comas yet. It'll be a bloody miracle if you all get out of this alive."

"Dr. Weir?" he inquired, watching Teyla carefully as her face fell.

Carson shook his head. "We haven't found her yet."

"Dr. Zelenka has brought back numerous symbols that were dialed, but they have not been able to find definite addresses yet," Teyla interrupted smoothly. "They have been making progress."

"How long have I been out?" Ronon inquired while trying to sit up. Carson pushed him down.

"Eight days," Carson replied, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "You need to rest."

Ronon tried to protest, but Teyla interjected. "Dr. Beckett is correct, Ronon. You will do no good if you are not healthy."

He stared at her, then turned his head to see Carson. "So I can't leave?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "No."

Ronon reluctantly put his head back on the pillow, then suddenly bolted up. His head was cold. "What happened to my hair?" He was wondering before why his head was so light.

Carson swallowed. "You were hit on the top of your skull. Twice. I'm sorry, but we had to shave your head. Just be glad it didn't hit any vital organs."

He ran a hand over his head. It felt weird—prickly. "Anything else I should know, Doc?"

"Your left leg was broken in four places—that's been set and numbed. You've got four broken ribs, but they're healing, and apart from a few grazes and your eye, you're perfectly fine," he said, attempting to smile but failing.

Ronon grunted. "And the rest?" He couldn't stop running his hand over his head.

Carson took a breath. "Teyla's wrist and arm were shattered, but we've pieced together what we can, and with physical therapy, it should get better. She, too, had broken ribs and a broken leg, but the only permanent damage was the loss of her hearing in her right ear. But all in all, you two were lucky."

"Sheppard and McKay?" His patience was wearing thin; he didn't like not knowing things.

"Colonel Sheppard needed brain surgery. I'm not sure if there'll be any lasting effects. A bullet narrowly missed his carotid artery and spinal column, but we managed to save all his extremities. A bullet tore through his kidney, but his other is intact, so presuming there are no other difficulties, he should be able to live normally." Carson stopped, taking a breath. "Rodney—Rodney had to go through surgery as well. He's paralyzed from the neck down. I'm not sure if he'll ever regain feeling. His liver was also completely destroyed, but we had Rodriguez's organs still in storage, and fortunately it matched Rodney's blood type. His body hasn't rejected it yet, but there could still be a chance he won't make it."

Ronon nodded slowly. His head was getting fuzzier, and it was getting harder to stay awake. "They'll be okay, though, right?"

Carson blinked. "I don't know, son."

Ronon slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Elizabeth's eyes stayed closed as she struggled to wake up. Her body didn't want to respond to her commands, but she forced them to open. She soon wished she hadn't—the light blinded her, even though she knew it was as dark as it had ever been.

"Elizabeth! Are you okay? Did they do anything…" Ketna trailed off, immediately at her side. Elizabeth's head lolled back onto the bars.

Memories came back to her—mostly the torture. She couldn't tell them what they wanted. Well, she could, technically, but it wouldn't help them. They just kept asking for Ancient information—how she knew it, where she found it, and the like. She couldn't very well tell them about Atlantis.

She could hear the guards around the corner. The footsteps echoed in her head, causing her to wince. Layna was grabbing her ankle and setting it. She wasn't quite sure on the details, but she did know it hurt like hell, and she didn't really want to know the specifics.

The cell opened, and she didn't look the guard in the eye. Her ears barely registered Modreni's scream as she was brutally torn from the bars. There'd been so much screaming lately. Just three—four?—days ago Modreni had been berating her for being of a "lower class", and here she was, screaming for her to help.

And even though she'd been constantly put down by her, Elizabeth would help her if she could. But broken, beaten, and injured, she couldn't do much but watch.

* * *

Let's put on our face of OH NOES and SHOCK! I'm incredibly mean, aren't I? -shrugs- Review, please! 


	8. Aw, They're All Awake

And it's up! Another big thanks to Oparu--and sorry, but I don't know how long it'll take before another chapter's up due to ScriptFrenzy. YOU SHOULD ALL DO IT. -hypnotizes- ScriptFrenzy(dot)org...gotta love it. :)

* * *

Rodney McKay's head hurt. His arms weren't cooperating with his request to rub his forehead, but he didn't think much of it. His head was his highest priority. The rest of his body didn't hurt, but that was not immediately puzzling.

"Carson," he croaked, hoping it would come out as more annoyed than pathetic. He swallowed what little was in his mouth and tried again. "Carson!"

The Scottish doctor came running, which should have worried Rodney, but he wasn't really thinking clearly. "Rodney! Are you—are you okay?" He shoved a straw into Rodney's mouth, and though he could drink, he couldn't feel the water go past his throat.

Rodney glared at him. "No, I'm not," he insisted. "I think my arms are asleep, and my head hurts. Don't you have any painkillers?" It didn't register at first, but as he tried to shift his legs, he stopped. "My legs, too."

Carson looked at him softly. "I'm sorry, Rodney," he said, sounding more pained than Rodney had ever heard him.

Rodney was confused. "Wait, what? What are you sorry for? You didn't—you didn't cut off my _arms_, did you?" He checked under the sheet. "No, still there. Hey, what's that bandage around my stomach? And why can't I feel it? What's going on? Beckett!"

Carson swallowed. "Rodney, I believe you're paralyzed from the neck down. I'm sorry, but we tried all we could. You're lucky all your limbs are still attached."

"_What_?" he shrieked, his face contorting in terror. "I'm _paralyzed_?"

"From the neck down," Carson reassured him, but he knew it wouldn't help. "And you lost your liver, but fortunately we replaced it with Rodriguez's. We still have to monitor you to make sure your body accepts it."

Rodney coughed in shock. "You mean I have _a dead man's body parts in me_?! And I _can't move_?! How am I supposed to _do _anything? What is wrong with you people? Don't you understand I _need_ my body?!"

"Yes, we understand that, Rodney," Carson answered, his voice surprisingly patient. He understood Rodney didn't really mean it. "That's why you still have your body. There's a chance you could regain feeling."

"A _chance_? You mean it's not even a sure thing it's temporary?!" He experimentally moved his neck, catching a glimpse of the next bed. "Who's that?"

Carson balked at the sudden change of topic. "That's Ronon, Rodney. Are you having problems remembering?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, no, no, no," he said, looking confused for a second before realizing he couldn't move his hand in the patented McKay gesture. "Ronon? What happened to his hair?"

"He's sleeping," Carson told him. "As should you." He couldn't really push the man down, mostly because he couldn't sit up to begin with.

"What happened to him? Is he okay?"

Carson nodded. Though Rodney might pretend not to care, he truly did. "He'll be fine. We had to shave his head because he was shot in the head." Blunt was the best way to go—Rodney would probably appreciate hearing someone was having it as tough as he was. "Teyla woke up as well."

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked. When Carson didn't respond, he added awkwardly, "You didn't have to shave his head, did you?"

Carson bit his lip. "Colonel Sheppard hasn't woken up yet. He required brain surgery, but I don't think there'll be any lasting damage."

Rodney read through his carefully chosen words but declined to comment. "At least he isn't paralyzed, right? I mean, I think he can deal with some brain damage—shouldn't really impact his IQ. Hey, wait, I didn't have any brain damage, did I? Wait, equation for a black hole's temperature—it's T equals—"

"Rodney, no, your brain's still intact. It's just your spinal cord that was hit," Carson interrupted before being barraged by physics formulas. "Colonel Sheppard's spinal cord was hit as well, but I'm positive he's not paralyzed."

"How can you know that? How can you possibly tell?" He was getting hysterical, and it wasn't even over himself. "How can you tell I don't have brain damage?"

"He's turning in his sleep, Rodney, and no bullet entered your brain," Carson answered, stilling the astrophysicist's questions. "Just go back to sleep."

"It's not like I'm able to do anything else, right?" he grumbled, glaring. "All I can do is sit here."

"You can still talk, Rodney."

"Good. I can tell everyone about the incompetence of Atlantis' doctors. I'll have to put in a request to Elizabeth to change the—Elizabeth!"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Before you ask, no, we don't know where she is, and yes, we have every available personnel looking for her. Just go to sleep, Rodney. When you wake up later you'll feel better." He surreptitiously added a fast-acting sedative to his IV, knowing he'd never fall asleep without it.

"I doubt that," he grumbled. Then he stopped, his eyes clouding slightly. "Wait—I got _shot_."

Carson looked at him. "Aye, you did, Rodney. Just go to sleep."

"Huh. I was shot. I was _shot _. Someone _shot_ me again." His eyes glazed over, and his head dropped back to the pillow with an ungraceful thump.

Carson sighed and unconsciously laid a hand on Rodney's unresponsive shoulder. Walking past both Teyla and Ronon's beds, he sighed. It had been lucky he'd managed to save as much of their damaged bodies as he had. Sheppard, though—

He sidled up to the colonel's bed, he closed his eyes briefly as the man's chest rose and fell peacefully. His head was swathed in a bandage, and his hair was still sticking up through the blinding white. Apart from the obvious injuries, he looked perfectly fine. But Carson knew there had to be _some_ damage—he'd performed the surgery. He knew what he'd had to cut.

He took one last look at the man's face. Under his gaze, John's eyes began to struggle open.

Carson did a double take, almost knocking over the tray next to him. The nurses behind him looked at him, concerned, but Carson waved them away and kept his attention on John.

"Colonel? Colonel Sheppard?"

John's eyes focused on him, looked slightly confused. "Hello."

Carson tilted his head. "Hello, Colonel."

John grinned. "Colonel. Heh. Hey, what happened?" His voice cracked, and he massaged his throat.

Carson let out a breath. "The planet you were on—with Elizabeth? You were shot."

"Who?"

Carson stared at him. This was not good. "Elizabeth. Doctor Elizabeth Weir. The leader of Atlantis, son."

John's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. What happened to Dex?"

"Ronon? He's fine; he's over there," Carson said, gesturing, but not really dropping the subject. "John—"

"Who? No. Dex. Captain—wait. Am I in Scotland?" He looked around, clearly confused.

Carson stopped, alarmed. "No, you're on Atlantis. John, what's the last thing you remember?"

John looked at him. "Atlantis?"

"Just answer the question, Colonel."

"Colonel? I'm not—" At Carson's glance, he stopped. "Okay. I was in Afghanistan—"

Carson sighed heavily. "Okay. It's going to be all right. You've got amnesia, son."

John looked at him. "What? What year is it?"

"2007."

John's eyes widened, and he looked around. "No, no, it's not."

Carson nodded, closing his eyes for a second. John needed to sleep, and he needed to figure some things out. He slipped the colonel—or whatever rank he was—a sedative and waited for his eyes to close.

"Wait!" John half-yelled. "Who are you?"

His mind went blank before his head his the pillow.

* * *

Feel the happy! -crickets- No happy. Never mind. They'll be fine...right? Oh ho, depending on reviews! -cough- Kidding. But only sort of.


	9. And It Just Keeps Getting Worse

Sorry about the wait--I've been busy with the first ever ScriptFrenzy (and I'm a winner!!! -dances-), so I wrote this in the hour I had before ending ScriptFrenzy and starting JulNoWriMo. Thanks always to my beta, Oparu.

I don't own ANYTHING. Except for the script I just wrote (-bounce-) and also my newly born novel for JulNoWriMo.

* * *

Elizabeth pressed the GDO securely into Ketna's hand. "Go. Don't look back. Just go."

Ketna looked uncertain, and she gave Elizabeth a questioning glance.

"I'll be okay," Elizabeth answered, though she wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not. "Just go on my signal."

"But–" Ketna started protesting, but Elizabeth effectively stopped her with a look. "Okay," she breathed, staring past Elizabeth to the guards that were circling nearer and nearer to their cell.

"Wait for it..." Elizabeth stood shakily. She grabbed the bars in front of her for support and stared pointedly at Ketna.

"You," the guard said gruffly, raising a finger to point at Elizabeth. She'd been taken the last few times, so it really wasn't a surprise anymore.

While the door was open, she flung a fist into the guard's face, and she smiled at the resounding crack. Teyla's self-defense training appeared to have helped somewhat, because the guard was currently holding his broken nose with one hand and scrabbling for his gun with the other. She kicked his hand with her bad foot, winced, and grabbed his gun for herself. Ketna stumbled past her, and Elizabeth shot over her head to distract the guards. Elizabeth heard a creak of a door opening, more shots, and guards' yells. She felt a small satisfaction over getting Ketna out of there, if not horror over the three guards she'd hit with her cover fire. She hadn't meant to hit anyone, but their weapons fire had been getting dangerously close to Ketna's head.

She felt a pressure upon her wrist, and it went limp. The gun dropped heavily to the ground, and she gave a twisted smile to the guard that was currently behind her.

"You've got blood on your face," she told him before her slapped her, kicked her bad ankle, and she collapsed into darkness.

* * *

"Rodney?" 

Katie Brown entered the infirmary with unsure steps, looking reproachfully at the scientist in his hospital bed. "Rodney? How have you been?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and glared at her. "Oh, since I was shot and paralyzed? Well, I've had great fun having people feed me and cater to my every need. It's been wonderful. How are you?"

He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but Katie seemed to understand.

"I'm sorry, Rodney." She faltered. "I brought you a flower," she said feebly, gesturing helplessly towards the small pot in her hand. "It's from the mainland, and I know you're not allergic, so..."

He sighed and tried, for the millionth time, to raise his hand to point towards the table next to him. He paused for a moment, and he finally nodded. "Thanks. Just, ah, put it over there."

She walked quietly to the table and put the flower down, briefly touching the leaves before sitting on Rodney's bed. "Listen, I know this hasn't been easy on you." She bit her lip. "I honestly don't know how to deal with this situation. I deal with plants, not with people. But I thought you might appreciate the company."

He swallowed, wishing he could reach out to take her hand. "I do." He would have added so much more to that sentence, but the woman had been traumatized enough from dealing with him. "Thank you. For the flower. And for everything."

Katie smiled. "It really isn't a problem, Rodney."

They sat in an awkward silence before she patted his prone hand and got up. "I'll be back to water that, okay?"

"You're leaving? Already?" His eyes widened–he hadn't realized how lonely he'd been.

She slumped back on the bed. "Oh, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Plus–" She glanced towards the door, where Zelenka was waiting nervously. "Oh, look, Rodney–Radek's here," she added in a voice that was slightly higher than normal. "I'm sure he's waiting for you. Here, I'll let you two catch up."

"What? No!" Rodney protested, but she smiled at him and shuffled out the door, muttering something to Zelenka before nervously leaving. "I don't want to talk to–uh, hi, Radek."

Zelenka pushed up his glasses, taking a breath. He pulled over a chair from John's bedside without thinking and sat down. He looked briefly at the lieutenant colonel before snapping back to Rodney. "Well, Rodney, I'm sure you'll be happy to know we have gotten a few dozen addresses out of the DHD on the planet."

"Oh, that's great news. Any ones that lead to planets with miracle cures for paralysis?" he said sarcastically, jerking his head for emphasis.

"_No_," Zelenka retorted, keeping his voice in check, "but we have sent teams to some of them–"

Rodney would have sat up straighter if he were able to move. "Did you find Elizabeth?"

Zelenka shook his head. "Well, no, but we have eliminated those planets–"

"You _eliminated_ them? How do you know they didn't dial to one of those and then 'gated somewhere else? Did you get the addresses from _those_ DHD's?"

"That would be thousands of addresses, Rodney. We don't have that kind of manpower."

"So what exactly _are_ you doing, besides wasting the time of dozens of personnel and scientists?"

"Rodney!" Zelenka shouted before snorting out his nose, annoyed. "We are doing _everything_ we can do get Elizabeth back. You know, better than anyone, how hard it is to unscramble the DHD coordinates."

Rodney glared at him for a second, his mouth set in a stubborn frown. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"And if you have a plan–any plan _at all_–that would help us find her, we are _all_ open to ideas."

Rodney looked down. "No, I don't." He swallowed again, breathing through his nose. "I'm sorry." He made it a point not to look at Zelenka while uttering his apology, but Zelenka noted it anyway.

"I am too." At Rodney's surprised glance, the Czech gestured faintly to Rodney's body. "I don't really know..."

"Well, join everyone else. You've been the first person to actually acknowledge it. Teyla just nods and looks away, Ronon grunts, Carson feels sorry for me, silently, of course, and Sheppard doesn't know who I am." Rodney stopped, looking at Zelenka as if seeing him for the first time. "Katie's either completely freaked out or scared of me."

"You do have the luck with the women," Zelenka quipped dryly without thinking.

Rodney half-smiled, then his face slipped back into a frown. Before he could retort, Carson stepped in gently between them.

"Rodney? I think it'd be best if ye got some sleep now. Sorry, Radek," he apologized softly. Zelenka bolted off the chair and smiled at Rodney, nodding quickly.

"Get well soon, Rodney," he said before making a quick exit.

"Like that's going to happen," Rodney yelled after him, glaring at Carson, who was sticking a needle in his limp arm, which had lost its IV days before. "I can't feel that. What are you putting there? What is that?"

Carson rolled his eyes and replaced the needle with a cotton swab. "Go to sleep, Rodney."

"I don't need this stuff anymore. I can sleep fine on my own." That was a blatant lie, and his head hit the pillow before he could shout back any more protests to Carson.

Ronon's good eye blinked once, twice, and finally closed. If any one of them were to snap, it would be Rodney first. He'd always suspected that, but especially with his injuries now...

Carson walked past him, and he feigned sleep. He didn't like drugs in his blood. It made him feel weak–a soldier should be able to sleep without the aid of intravenous substances. Sure, he was plagued with nightmares, but that was nothing new.

Carson rubbed his head and looked from one patient to another. Teyla and Ronon could be released soon, and by medical standards, so could John and Rodney. Rodney would need a keeper, of course, and John would have to go back to Earth, but from a medical standpoint, they were perfectly fine. Physically. Mentally...he wasn't quite sure yet.

* * *

Elizabeth had faced down angry negotiators, leaders, and even military leaders. But this man's leering face was in a different category altogether.

"Oh, Elizabeth," he said in perfect English. "You've thwarted every torture tactic you've come across."

She would have responded, but the muzzle on her mouth hampered her speech, so she struggled futilely against her bonds instead.

"So it's time for something new, hmm?" He continued ignoring her feeble attempts to escape. He walked around her chair, fiddling with knobs and flicking a switch. "Something...different. Unexpected. If we can't pull out the knowledge we want with simple military tactics, we'll have to turn to the science, won't we?"

His rhetorical questions were beginning to worry her. He sounded completely sane, but his eyes made her uneasy. While he spoke, his hands flew across control panels beyond her comprehension.

"Yes. We will." He answered his own question, pressing a final button and standing behind her. "How noble of you to let that little girl escape, no? When you didn't even know if she'd make it to the Stargate? We could have caught her and tortured her for the information you gave her. Here, to put your mind at ease–she made it. You picked a good messenger–young, with very fast legs. Oh, and yes, Elizabeth, this will hurt."

An ominous whirring began behind her. She looked from left to right in concealed panic, but she couldn't identify the source of the sound. The man's face appeared again, upside down in front of her own, and he smiled. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. This might be a waste of a very powerful mind." His face left her vision, and she heard footsteps leading away from her metal chair.

She understood why he'd left. The whirring was, to her horror, a drill. It was coming at her with incredible speed, and the two prongs lined up directly with her temples.

"Don't struggle, Elizabeth," the man's calm voice shouted from behind her. "It will kill you if you do."

She watched in fear as it descended on her, and she repressed a scream as it made contact with her skin. Liquid hot pain blinded her immediately.

"Such a waste," the man said quietly. Shaking his head sadly, "It's such a waste," he finished.

* * *

Huh. That took an odd turn. That wasn't what was supposed to happen when I wrote it, honest! Oh well. My muse tends to take over the story, along with the plotbunnies and the characters. (Not like Lizzie wanted a drill in her head, of course.) I don't know what I'm saying. Anyways, you all know the drill (ha! -rim shot-) by now. 


End file.
